


along came a spider

by seekrest



Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [6]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, BAMF Michelle Jones, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, MJ is Black Cat, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter should be worried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24930994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: “You’re gonna have to be twice as good to go half as far, Chelle,” she’d say as Michelle watched her apply her lipstick. “Remember that.”“That’s not fair,” Michelle replied, her memories supplying the sad smile on her mother’s face.“Life’s not fair baby girl. But you know what that means right?”Michelle remembered shaking her head, her mother turning to her with a fierce look of determination on her face.“You don’t have to play nice.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796938
Comments: 80
Kudos: 137
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Machiavelien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machiavelien/gifts).



Professional. Efficient. Calculated. 

Michelle’s been called many things throughout her life. Some nice. Most not.

She doesn’t care, usually. Caring requires emotion and emotion is for the weak - or at least, people simpler than her.

Michelle has a strict code, one ingrained in her from her own mother.

“You’re gonna have to be twice as good to go half as far, Chelle,” she’d say as Michelle watched her apply her lipstick. “Remember that.” 

“That’s not fair,” Michelle replied, her memories supplying the sad smile on her mother’s face.

“Life’s not fair baby girl. But you know what that means right?”

Michelle remembered shaking her head, her mother turning to her with a fierce look of determination on her face.

“You don’t have to play nice.”

* * *

Michelle took that to heart.

She was good -  _ damn _ good at her job, officially being a management consultant for an organization that made more money in a month than some small countries did.

But it’s what Michelle did that on the side - under wraps, after dark, a sleek leather suit tailor made just for her - that made her think that if her mom could see her now, she’d be proud.

It was easy, appeasing the simple white men she was surrounded by. Sexist and racist jokes, laughing heartily to their whims as if their words didn’t make her skin crawl. But Michelle took it in stride - she had to, outwardly - if only because it gave her the chance to make them feel as if she was one of them. 

Michelle was used to straddling two worlds. Might as well put that skill to good use.

* * *

“And then I said, ‘darling, if all you wanted was a good time, that’s all you had to say’,” some idiot -  _ Randy, thirty-two, guilty of insider trading -  _ Michelle had stopped half-listening to twenty minutes ago said, MIchelle humming along as she glanced around the open office.

Her newest gig was a small tech company - small in the sense of employees rather than yearly output. They hired her as a consultant to help figure out their next move in hiring, considering the boom in business they’d been having.

A boom that Michelle discovered - through her  _ other  _ line of work - wasn’t legal. 

“And then what happened?” Michelle says, faintly annoyed with her tone practiced enough that the arrogant white guy in front of her took it as dumb interest. It was so easy to play with them, a sharp contrast to how she’d been in her youth.

When Michelle was young, she didn’t play nice - in her words, her actions, her entire persona. Yet she quickly realized that her mother’s words were true in more ways than one. 

Michelle refused to make herself small, refused to make herself a ‘yes-woman’ to the people around her. But if playing the part of interested waif publicly was good enough to get her into the door, good enough that it allowed her the chance to sneak in after hours and upend the lives of those who made a living of destroying others - then Michelle was going to play her part.

She didn’t play nice. And Michelle was damn good at her job. 

“Well--” the guy says, only to be cut off by another voice that says, “Come on, man. Leave her alone. She’s got work to do.”

Michelle and the idiot both turn, keeping her expression neutral when she sees who it is. 

“Parker, lay off,” the guy next to her says, Michelle noting the bite in his words. “No one’s here who doesn’t want to be.”

Parker -  _ Peter, twenty-six, low-level tech and too nice for his own good _ \- looked displeased, eyes dancing between the two of them before saying, “You know Quentin’s gonna be pissed if you don’t get that patent done by the end of the week.”

“So get it  _ done _ ,” Randy quips back, Peter frowning at him as Randy turns to Michelle and says, “Anyway, as I was--”

“The patent, Randy,” Peter says a bit more firmly, Michelle raising an eyebrow as she took him in.

Michelle didn’t need saving - she knew exactly what she was doing and knew better than most that if you give a person, especially a man, enough rope - they’ll do all the damage themselves.

A sense of protectiveness didn’t bode well for Michelle, not in her line of work or in her taste in men. Yet everything emanating off of Peter Parker wasn’t out of a sense of being territorial or false humility, but goodness. As if he genuinely wanted to make sure Michelle was okay.

It was sweet, if a little naive - Michelle not wanting to lose the work she’d been doing for the past twenty minutes as she says, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it, tiger,” she says with a smile, “no one is where they don’t want to be.

Peter looks surprised at that, eyes widening as he takes a step back - as if she was dangerous.  _ Good _ , Michelle thinks _ , you should be worried _ .  _ This company won’t see the next quarter.  _

“If you’re sure--” Peter begins, looking at her with a level of uncertainty that went beyond protection - almost curiosity as he tilts his head.

“We’re  _ sure _ ,” Randy says menacingly, even if Peter doesn’t look bothered by him in the slightest - completely transfixed by Michelle.

They stare at each other for a beat, almost sizing each other up - though why Peter would do this, Michelle couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

Before she has the chance to evaluate it further, Peter takes another step back - nodding before saying, “Okay. Okay, I’ll see you later.”

He looks to Michelle once more, an unreadable expression on his face before turning away - Michelle’s gaze steadily on him as he does. 

The unfortunate drawback is that innocent people - like Peter from all that she could gather - sometimes got caught in the fray. It wasn’t something Michelle liked to dwell on, the idea that in destroying the corruption she uncovered that there was always collateral damage.

She tried to minimize it. Tried to do her best to make it easier for those who would be left to pick up the pieces. 

She was damn good at her job. But there were always losses, even in victory.

  
  


* * *

Michelle was being followed. 

She could see him in the distance, keeping far enough that for a less observant person that it could just be a faint shadow. But it was more of an instinct, a gut feeling cultivated after a lifetime of learning how human behavior works and using it to her advantage - if the person behind her was really  _ human  _ after all.

For all the information that she’s ever stolen in her life, the identity of Spider-Man isn’t one of them. 

She should’ve guessed that she wouldn’t stay under the radar for long, though why Spider-Man would be particularly interested in her late night activities didn’t cross her mind.

From all she knew, Spider-Man was one of the good guys - if there even was such a thing. He wouldn’t care about a person exposing corruption when they found it, not if he truly cared about helping the world.

But it was funny to her, in a sense - that Spider-Man was trying to tail her. As if his red and blue suit wasn’t painfully obvious in the bright moonlight. As if Michelle was an unobservant petty criminal too focused on her own work to know what was coming.

Efficient. Professional. Quiet as a cat.

Michelle was damn good at her job.

Even if that included a little game of cat and mouse.

Or spider, as it were.

* * *

The trap itself was easy enough, allowing him to follow her after she slipped out of the office building. She dove across rooftops, quick and stealthy - always allowing some distance between the two of them, just enough that he could feel as if he had the upper hand.

Once she had him where she wanted him, far enough away from the scene of the crime - she slipped away, laughing to herself when Spider-Man landed on a rooftop and glanced around.

She watched as he crouched down, his head turning as he seemed to try and discover where she could be. Michelle watched for half-second, playing with him before taking the leap - slowly walking up behind him. 

His head is still turned in the other direction, completely oblivious until Michelle side swipes his legs - hearing the surprised yelp before she pins him down, the claws of her suit making an unfortunate mess of things as she puts her knee to his arm, exposing a glorious number of abs as Spider-Man looks up at her.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not nice to follow strangers?” Michelle almost purrs, the eyes of Spider-Man’s mask widening. 

“No, she’s dead.”

That throws Michelle for a beat, but not long enough to let off pressure - hand still flexed over his face as she takes him in. 

He was built like a gymnast, understandable considering the acrobatics Michelle had seen Spider-Man do over the years. She should distract him, cut a little something into his perfect chest before making her get away.

But there’s something familiar to him, something she can’t put a name to as she says, “Tragic backstory. How original.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he huffs, Michelle smirking as she moves the hand from his chest to his neck, Spider-Man flinching as she does. 

It didn’t make sense to her, why he would allow her to get the jump on him - or to even keep him in such a compromising position. Michelle knew the exploits of Spider-Man well enough to have seen him lift cars off of people.

Michelle saves that little question for later, leaning forward as she says, “I don’t play nice with strangers.”

“Hi, I’m Spider-Man,” Spider-Man replies, Michelle keeping steady pressure on his windpipe, “there. Not strangers anymore.”

Michelle smirks despite herself, looking down at him. 

It’s playful, fun - enough that Michelle knows that he’s harmless to her, even if his whole body is still tense and coiled, ready for a fight.

But if he wanted to fight her, wanted to even get out of her grasp - he would’ve by now, Michelle releasing pressure on his neck and chest as he coughs, moving backwards.

“Nice to meet you, Spider,” she says, her voice low as she continues to back away.

“What’s--” he coughs, “What’s your name?”

Michelle smirks.

“Don’t worry about it, tiger. See you around.”

The eyes of Spider-Man’s mask widen at that but Michelle doesn’t give him time to respond, leaping off the rooftop and vaulting herself towards another.

She can feel his stare on her as she leaves, a sense in the back of her mind that she slipped up somehow.

She pushes that away as she leaves, doing quick work of evading Spider-Man this time around - content to play this game only on her terms.

Michelle was damn good at her job.

She was done with this one. 

* * *

Peter groaned as he slipped into his apartment, sliding the window down with one hand and gathering the remains of his suit with the other.

Following the mysterious stranger tonight hadn’t been part of his plan but now it had the consequence of destroying a suit, something that just made Peter even more curious for what kind of claws she had on.

And she was a  _ she _ \- Peter catching the fit of her suit and the smile on her face, a mask that barely held on to the identity of someone that Peter recognized in an instant when she slipped.

_ Don’t worry about it, tiger _ .

It was too coincidental, too easy - Peter already feeling completely thrown that someone had gotten the jump on him only for his spidey senses to go off in the same way they had earlier today, when Michelle Jones was talking to Randy.

Peter had so many questions, slipping off his mask as he walked through his apartment. Who was she? What was she doing? Was she targeting him? Did she know who he was?   


Peter smirks to himself as he makes his way to the bathroom, stripping off the suit to shower as he thinks.

Peter didn’t know what was going on with Michelle Jones. Didn't know who she was, why she dressed up like _that_ at night, or why his danger sense went off around her.

But as he turned on the hot water, letting the steam fill his tiny bathroom, Peter knew he wanted to. 


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean it’s not enough?” Michelle hisses, the man in front of her shrugging, looking out over the Hudson.

“It’s not enough,” he says simply, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with an overpriced handkerchief -  _ imported, Givenchy 2016 collection  _ \- before stuffing the fabric back into his pocket.

“We had a deal W,” Michelle says, eyes narrowing as the man beside her puts his glasses back on.

“And we still do Cat,” he replies, his features smooth and blank in the tinted moonlight. “Find us more. What you have isn’t enough.”

Michelle frowns, exhaling slowly as her fingers grasp the metal bar in front of them - working the crick in her neck before standing up straighter. 

“I can take my business elsewhere, if it’s not up to your standards.” 

It’s a simple statement but the threat is clearly felt, Michelle watching from the corner of her eye as a bodyguard goes rigid - flexed and poised for a fight.

_ Good _ , Michelle thinks,  _ it’s been a while since I’ve had some fun _ .

The man stares at her for a beat, Michelle noticing the way his eyes bore into hers - an intimidation tactic for anyone else, something she’s seen him do to others on empty rooftops in the shadow of night.

But it’s no match for Michelle, holding his gaze - laughing inwardly at the idea that any man would dare think she could ever be manipulated.

Her fun is postponed if only for the night, W’s lips quirking to the side before saying, “That won’t be necessary.”

He gives an almost imperceptible nod to the bodyguard at the door, Michelle’s eyes still steadily trained on W as he says, “Your reputation precedes you, Cat. My employer trusts that you can get the job done.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she says, the claws of her suit tapping against the metal bar as W smiles.

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Including this,” he says, reaching into his pocket.

Michelle immediately tenses, poised and ready for a fight when he lifts a hand - bringing out a pair of tickets in the other. 

“What’s this?” She says, snatching the tickets out of his hand - W looking at her impassively as he replies, “Consider it an investment. A helping hand as you complete the job.”

“I don’t need any help,” Michelle says curtly, W smiling - seeing something flash behind his eyes.

“Be that as it may, my employer is… particularly invested in the outcome of this case.” 

He takes a step forward, Michelle’s eyes narrowing as he continues.

“You would do well not to fail.”

Michelle smirks, taking a step forward.

“I never do.”

* * *

Peter knew he was being watched.

It was cute, if a woman who looked like  _ that _ could be called cute, that she seemed to think that he was unaware. His senses went crazy anytime he was around her, both on the street and in the hallways at work.

“Ms. Jones.”

“Mr. Parker.”

There was something there. Something he couldn’t put a finger on. She’d clearly stolen something from the office, Randy’s in particular. But even after Peter endured a long-winded lunch, regretting the decision the moment they arrived at the overpriced restaurant - Peter still was at a loss, Randy being many things but secretive not among them.

He caught Michelle’s eye when they walked back into the office together, noticed the slight frown on her face before her features quickly switched to a cool neutral. It was unnerving, the way she stared at him - as if he was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out.

It was fitting really, since to Peter she was the same. 

* * *

“Hey tiger, what brings you out here?” He hears her say, back straightening as he looks over to where she is on the rooftop.

“Better question is,” Peter says, “what are  _ you _ doing here?”

She smiles, Peter letting his eyes drift up and down - glad not for the first time that the mask could hide his facial expressions as he took her in.

Unlike how she was in the office - closed off, firm, arms folded together - Michelle was… freer in her black suit. She walked almost like a dancer, Peter wanting so desperately to ask her more about her past without seeming like any number of the creepy guys who chatted her up in the office.

The one point he had in his favor now is that she didn’t know who he was under the mask, even if a part of Peter wondered what would happen if she did - considering his senses never failed to go off around her. 

“Can’t a girl take in the sights?” She replies, tilting her head as she slowly walks up to him. Everything in Peter is telling him to back up and away - that something is wrong, that she’s  _ dangerous _ .

But Peter’s always been a glutton for punishment, licking his lips before saying, “Sure. What do you think of the view?”

Peter stands to face her, watching as Michelle slowly checks him out - willing his body not to betray him as he holds his ground.

“Not as interesting as I expected,” she says cooly, eyes flicking out over to the street, “I would’ve thought you’d be into bigger fish.”

Peter’s confused for a half-beat before he glances over to where her gaze has shifted, back to the drug deal he was about to bust.

“No, I like to keep it simple. Closer to the ground,” Peter says, Michelle smirking at him.

“Would’ve thought a spider would prefer heights. Good to know, tiger. I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, Peter getting the feeling that they weren’t talking about crime anymore as he takes a step closer.

“You know this is a spider, not a tiger right?” He says, pointing to the emblem on his chest. “It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Is it now?” she says, taking a step closer to him, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She leans forward, Peter sharply inhaling as she whispers, “ _ Spider. _ ”

Peter’s throat feels dry, going to say something more when a scuffle from below distracts him - turning to them to a second. He needed to intervene sooner rather than later, turning back to Michelle only for her to have disappeared - Peter cursing the fact that for the second time in a row, he’d been too distracted to get any more information out of her.

He shelves that away for now, ignoring the blood rushing throughout his body and focusing on the task at hand - flinging himself off the rooftop and towards the drug deal below.

* * *

Michelle was an observant person, by nature and for her craft. It suited her well - code switching between weekend visits to their families when her parents were married, doing it even more so when they divorced.

It was a delicate dance, not unlike the contemporary classes she took in college as an elective. Not unlike the defense classes she took after college as a necessity. 

Observing people took skill, took finesse - to be sly and as quiet as a cat, pounced for the kill.

It was amusing to Michelle that Peter Parker -  _ rented suit, new shoes, uncomfortable around rich people  _ \- was watching her, only because he seemed completely oblivious to how obvious he was being.

She’d looked him up after that first day because of course she did. It wasn’t in her nature to let a stone go unturned or a thread untangled.

Peter was a grad student at ESU - navigating his job at Beck Enterprises and a class load that made Michelle wonder when the hell he found the time to study. It was a cake walk to hack into ESU’s scheduling system, a few clicks away from finding his grades and coursework. 

A cynical part of Michelle wondered if it was an invasion of privacy. The wiser part of Michelle understood that people were never what they seemed.

Yet Peter seemed frustratingly normal - an aunt back in Queens, a less than stellar academic record and a prestigious internship with Stark Industries when he was in high school.

He was well-liked among his co-workers, polite and earnest in his work - completely oblivious it seemed to the dark underbelly of Beck Enterprises. 

Peter watched her at work like he was watching her now; small talk in passing, the barest of flirtation in it only to step back - as if he somehow knew that pushing forward would be the easiest way to turn her off.

If anything, the fact that he was self-aware enough to do so turned her on even more. 

There was something under the surface there, some  _ thing _ that Michelle couldn’t quite put her finger on - her gut telling her that there was more to the story than meets the eye. 

It was no accident that Peter was at this masquerade gala, a representative for Beck Enterprises as his boss schmoozed with people he had no business dealing with. 

Michelle was curious, interested in knowing more about the man who on paper seemed boring yet everything within her told her he was anything but.

She grabs a glass from a waiter and walks towards him with purpose, catching the way his eyes widened and flirted up and down.

It was a costume of a different sort - long black dress, high slit and a beaded mask. But Michelle didn’t miss how Peter’s eyes took her in before glancing up - holding her gaze as she made her way closer to him.

“Ms. Jones?”

Michelle smiles before saying, “Mr. Parker. Looks like my mask isn’t doing it’s job if you knew who I was.”

He laughs at that, seeing up close the fit of his suit and how wrong it was for him. She knew he didn’t come from money, but it was surprising to her all the same - a man choosing to go to a fancy gala and not breaking the bank to do so.

Yet another thing to tick off for the mystery that was Peter Parker.

“Didn’t think hiding was the purpose,” he says, motioning towards his face. “It’s why I didn’t bother.”

“Oh?” She asks, taking a sip of her champagne - feeling Peter’s gaze on her as she did so. She brings her glass down and says, “I thought the invitation was clear.”

“Kind of wasn’t, if you think about it.” Peter shrugs, nodding towards the room as he says, “What’s the point of wearing masks of all anyone wants to do is to ask for money?”

_ Perceptive _ , Michelle thinks, her eyes flirting over to where Quentin Beck was trying - and failing - to impress Philip Bradshaw.

“I think the point is to have fun,” she counters, setting her drink down on one of the high tables.

He stares at her, Michelle taking another step forward as she says, “Don’t you think it’s important to have some fun?”

“Depends on what kind of fun it is,” he says, voice low and full of promise.

Michelle made a promise to herself a long time ago not to let anything conflict with her work - a recognition that allowing anything to distract her would only lead to ruin.

Yet the look in Peter’s eyes stirred something in her gut, a smile on her face as he smiles back - wondering if maybe some rules were made to be broken.

* * *

This wasn’t how Michelle had intended to find out more about Peter Parker but all things considered, she wasn’t going to complain. 

Peter’s hands were all over her, snaking up and down her back as he reached for the clasp of her dress. 

“Eager,” she whispers into his mouth before sucking on his bottom lip, Peter groaning as he grinds alongside her - the desk they’re currently against rattling slightly.

It’d been too easy to chat with him downstairs, entirely too simple to ask him if he wanted to get out of there - Peter being surprised when they didn’t make for the exit but for the offices upstairs.

She didn’t trust him enough to tell him where she lived, nor did she know him well enough to want to go to his place.

It was logical really, to stay in the building. 

“Is this— is this too fast?” He pants, Michelle moving his jacket off as she kissed him in response.

“I should be asking you that,” she says, rifling her hands through his hair as she wraps a leg around his torso, “since I’m the one who snuck you away.”

Michelle can feel her dress slipping off her shoulders, Peter having worked the clasp off and bracing his hand against the table, his mouth moving to her neck.

He kisses her neck, tongue softly dancing along her pulse point before he sucks - Michelle sighing as she lets one of the straps of her dress fall down, making room for him to press himself closer to her.

“Thanks for that. I was bored out of my mind,” he whispers alongside her neck, moving his mouth down to her chest as he gently brushes the remaining strap off of her. Michelle smiles as he sharply inhales, eyes taking in her bare chest.

“Glad I could distract you,” she says, Peter’s eyes snapping up to hers with a look she doesn’t recognize.

“I don’t want you to distract me,” he says with conviction, Michelle immediately confused only for his lips to meet hers - filled with just as much heat as before but with a little something else that she doesn’t recognize.

“What do you want?” She whispers against his mouth, Peter’s hands roaming down the small of her back.

“To make you feel good,” he huffs, leaning back just enough for their noses to touch, “if that’s okay.”

Michelle laughs only for it to turn into a soft moan, closing her eyes his mouth drops down to her chest - pressing soft kisses as he makes his way down.

“You sure that’s what you want?” She asks, opening her eyes to see Peter kneeling before her - eyes dark and focused as he moves her legs apart.

She gasps as he runs his tongue against her, one hand immediately braced against the desk and another snaking through his hair - wishing now more than ever that she hasn’t worn stockings even if the barrier seemingly didn’t matter at all to Peter, moving his mouth against the fabric before leaning back.

“Yeah,” he whispers, Michelle shuddering as he lifts her off the desk - reaching under her dress to remove her stockings and holding her gaze. 

“I’m sure.”

* * *

Curiosity may have killed the cat, Michelle thinks - but if this was to be the death of her success rate, there were worse ways to go.

Michelle was still reeling from the aftershocks of how easily his tongue worked her over when she nearly tore his pants off, closing her eyes in a new kind of relief when he finally pressed himself inside her.

The desk rattled underneath them, Peter panting into her neck as his hands braced himself against her - Michelle’s own hips trying to match his rhythm. 

It was electric, a magnetic pulse between them - Michelle’s dress still loosely hanging around her stomach and Peter’s shirt still frustratingly on, letting her hands drift over his biceps - gasping at the muscles she felt and at the new angle he was hitting.

It occurs to her later that her job for the night was to find more information, wondering how she would explain this to W later - knowing one of his cronies had likely watched her slipped away.

For the moment, Michelle was lost - to Peter’s hot breath against her neck, to the feel of him moving inside her, and to the wave of pleasure washing over her as he increased his pace.

Michelle never failed.

But if this was what failure felt like, Peter groaning as they fell over together, Michelle began to wonder if winning was all it cracked up to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marking this as complete but uh... hello. Back again. This world is running away from me.
> 
> Don’t look at me.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this [beautiful art](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/post/622035668593410048/machiavelien-spideychelleweek-2020-day-6) that Machi created, a work of art that inspired this fic!!!
> 
> And [this one](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/post/622646719877971968/peters-hands-were-all-over-her-snaking-up-and) that inspired chapter 2!!!


End file.
